


I'll Be Your Gravity; You'll Be My Oxygen

by Showtime (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chicago Blackhawks, Graphic Descriptions of Hockey Fights, M/M, Nashville Predators, Soul Bond, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5574420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Showtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan and Patrick thought that they were meant to be with each other for the rest of their lives, doing everything they could to get their soul bond to flare, so they could be with each other forever.</p><p>But all it takes is one game for Jonathan, and Patrick, to realise that some things are set in stone, for better or worse.</p><p>
  <em>Title credit: <strong>Follow You</strong> by Bring Me the Horizon.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Serious trigger warning for blood, gore, and head trauma in the official video.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Okay, so I re-wrote this, and with the amazing help of **leyley09** I actually managed to do **something** right with this fic._
> 
> _Seriously, I should be adding her as co-author she's done so much for this work ;^; thank you hunny, I'm definitely going to have to write you a present for this._
> 
> _Rewritten, edited, sorry for the repost._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Note: italics is Patrick talking in his head, underlined italics is Shea._

Patrick moodily stormed into the locker room, slamming the door shut behind him. Hossa and Hjalmarsson jumped out their skins, and everyone went silent, eyes moving between Patrick and Jonny, their captain sheepishly following the blond male into the locker room.

No one said anything as Patrick grabbed his stick, a puck, and disappeared off to the ice before anyone else was ready. No one said anything as the door to the ice slammed shut, and the sound of smashing glass was heard.

“He’s uh, not very happy.”

“We can see that,” Sharpy retorted with a raised eyebrow, already getting protective of his best friend.

“Before you cut my dick off, I didn’t do anything. We still haven’t been able to soul bond. He was so sure that last night would do the trick,” Jonny sighed softly, moving to his own locker, resting his head against it and letting his eyes close. The soft cuts on his palm and arm ached, echoing the failure of their bonding attempt around Jonny’s head.

“Jonny, you can’t force a soul bond.”

“I know, Seabs, I know, but Pat’s just so determined for us to bond. He doesn’t want to lose me. Christ, we’ve been together for eight years, we love each other. I don’t want to lose him to someone else. I just... it’s hard to see him after each attempt fails.”

Seabs and Duncs glanced at each other, and Jonny couldn’t help the pang of jealously in his heart. Those two were alright. They’d met by playing for the Hawks, ended up going on a few dates. They were engaged when they soul bonded during the middle of a game. _It was alright for them_.

“Pat and I want to be together. Simple as that. We can try it.”

Jonny and Seabs stared at each other for a moment, as though they were daring each other to say something before Coach came in, calling for silence.

He looked around with a frown before Sharpy disappeared to the hallway, yelling Patrick’s name. Within a few moments, Patrick was lurking in the doorway, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. It was obvious he wasn’t really paying that much to what Coach was saying, not unless his name was said at the start of it. Even then, he jumped at the sound of his name, eyes wide as he looked up to make eye contact with Q. Nodding, he accepted the words that were said to him, before he went back to picking at his hands, frowning at the floor.

Sharpy wanted to get up and hug him; that much was obvious, while Hossa shifted uncomfortably. Hjalmarsson tried to avoid looking at the right-winger, and the rest of the team did their best to ignore the way he picked his nails, his mood souring the whole locker room. Coach watched them all, before glancing at Patrick.

“For Christ’s Sake, just get your heads in the fucking game. We need this win.”

They trudged onto home ice mere minutes later, and Jonny noticed how jumpy Patrick seemed to be. He moved to wrap his arm tightly around the right-winger, nuzzling his hair gently before Patrick pulled away to tug his helmet on, but Jonny got a brief smile and an air kiss before Patrick turned away to focus on the Nashville Predators lining up opposite the Blackhawks.

The National Anthem rang out around the rink, and Jonny let his gaze fall on the captain opposite him – _Weber, that’s all I know. Number 6_. Jonny really wasn’t content with how much the man was staring at Patrick. The look was almost possessive, as though Patrick were a slice of meat that Weber was eyeing up in a butcher’s or at some kind of farmer’s market.

Jealously immediately curled around the captain’s stomach, and his hand reached out to gently rest on top of Patrick’s gloved one. There was a jolt in Jonny’s stomach as he realised that Patrick was meeting Weber’s gaze. His hand squeezed gently, and Patrick’s head turned quickly; Jonny winced at the sound of his boyfriend’s neck cracking. The two Hawks shared a soft smile before Patrick went straight back to staring at Weber, curiosity on his face.

Hell, Jonny might just send a puck to the Predator’s face later in the game.

xox

The sound of a body slamming into the Perplex surrounding the rink echoed in Jonny’s ears, and he turned around just in time to see Patrick falling to the ice, Weber shooting off with the puck.

Anger coursed around the captain’s body, and Jonny forgot how to contain himself. He forgot to breathe out, forgot to even _try_ to focus on the game. Protectiveness curled around his heart, even as he saw Weber stumble around on the ice, moving off to the side for a quick breather. He shot towards the other captain, slamming hard into the man. Weber fell to the ice instantly, a wild look in his eyes as he looked up at Jonny in shock. Jonny found his hands tugging the Predators’ helmet off, only to grab his head, all but throwing it back down to the ice.

Someone was screaming at him to _stop, Christ Tazer, cut it out!,_ and he could hear Seabs screaming something to do with Patrick, but Jonny couldn’t stop his fists slamming into Weber’s face. Inhuman snarls were falling from his lips, and he had to yank his arm free from someone’s hands. His fists kept flying down.

Sick satisfaction curled around him as he felt the crack of Weber’s nose under his fist, the feeling of teeth dislodging under his skin.

There were three sets of hands on him, maybe four, that were busy tugging him back, _dragging_ Jonny across the ice as he continued to fight against them, trying to extract the last of his anger out on Weber. The captain was laying on the ice, obviously dazed, blood gushing from his nose. An eye was already swollen shut, and Jonny couldn’t help but smile – a smile that was so animalistic, he saw Duncs shy away from him.

Finding himself by the bench, Jonny’s eyes cut across to the side, his heart dropping when he saw Patrick, curled up in Sharpy’s arm on the bench, looking dazed and in pain. Concern filled him as he watched the blond man curling up, shaking against Sharpy’s chest, eyes wide with fear and pain as they locked onto Jonny.

There was a dribble of blood sliding down Patrick’s face, and Jonny immediately tugged himself free. He vaulted over the barrier, not caring that he was leaving bloody handprints on the white plastic.

His hands shook as they reached out to grip onto Patrick’s shoulder, only for Jonny to look up in shock when Sharpy pushed him back, fury on his face.

“Don’t come near him.”

The glare Sharpy was giving him was so intense that Jonny couldn’t help but flinch away, licking his lips nervously. He knelt down; trying to catch Patrick’s eyes, but the right-winger closed his eyes tightly, trying to hide away from the other man.

“Pat..?”

“Don’t. I need to- need to go to the hospital.”

“How hard did he hit you?! Did you hit your head when you went down on the ice? Where does it hurt, baby?”

“I’m not going for _me_.”

Jonny frowned, leaning back on his skates as he tried to comprehend the strange situation in front of him, before he realised that Patrick’s eyes were over his shoulder, watching the medics that were carrying Weber to a stretcher on the side of the rink.

“N-No... Pat, you can’t be serious. Why would you go to the hospital to check on Weber?!”

_Unless..._

Dread filled Jonny’s heart as Patrick said nothing. He stood, shaking badly as he made his way over to the Predators’ side of the rink. Another member of the team stood, catching the Blackhawk as he stumbled, making sure to help him follow the stretcher.

“When they bumped into each other, they soul bonded.” Sharpy’s voice was quiet, _dangerous_. “You didn’t give two shits about Patrick.” His eyes were staring intently into Jonny’s now, and Jonny could feel fear wrapping around in his stomach.

“I didn’t-”

“Yeah, you didn’t know. But you didn’t _think_ , either. You saw how Weber was - shaking, barely able to stand himself – the bond was rushing through him when you slammed him down to the ice. You might have caused Weber a serious injury, and you seriously hurt Patrick in the process. The bond was growing the whole game and then they bashed into each other. That’s why they were following each other around.”

“I thought... I thought he was just...”

“That’s all you do, whenever Kane gets into something on the ice. You only think of yourself; you don’t even think of Kane.” The sound of Coach Q behind him had Jonny jumping, eyes wide as he turned back. He worried his bottom lip, the fury on his coach’s face one that they’d rarely seen before. “The game’s on hold, for now, it might be cancelled. I want all the Hawks in the locker room.”

Jonny stood up properly to follow Hossa into the locker room, only to freeze when Q continued. “Oh, and Toews? Consider yourself suspended. Duration depending on how badly you fucked up Weber’s head. Don’t come to practice for a few days. I need to decide what the fuck to do with you.”

xox

 _Well, that could have gone better_ , Patrick mused as he hugged his knees, watching Weber in the bed across the room. Even in the dim light, he could see just how badly his face was bruised, the blackened areas contrasting against the captain’s pale skin. His lips were swollen, split across the bottom. His left eye was already starting to swell up, and it made Patrick’s heart ache.

_Fucking hell, Jonny; why the hell..._

Fear was coiling around his heart, and Patrick couldn’t help but tear up as a glare of pain shot across his mind.

“Fuck!”

Patrick’s eyes flickered to stare at Weber, watching him rub his head. _Where the fuck am I? _ The sound of his voice in Patrick’s head was definitely something he would have to get used to. Quickly.

Patrick hesitated before he took a silent breath. _You’re in the hospital and- Christ, be careful!_

Weber had jumped at the voice, his head tilting to stare at Patrick in shock. “W-What-”

“Looks like the universe wants us together.” Patrick shrugged, turning his attention to his hands, fingers nervously picking at his nails.

“Why am I in the hospital..?”

“You uh- I... When we bashed into each other, my fault, by the way.” The playback of Patrick skating into Weber flashed through both their minds, and Patrick shuddered a little bit. “I ended up on the ice when we bonded, dazed, and Jonny obviously thought you’d injured me. He went mental.” His voice faltered. “I’ve... I’ve never seen him like that before.”

Weber nodded and ran a hand through his hair, slightly more gently. A soft _want_ throbbed through Patrick’s mind, and he slowly stood up, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Weber’s hand immediately took Patrick’s own, and the captain smiled.

“Hey, the name is Shea.”

“Shea...” Patrick breathed the name softly, letting his eyes close.

The contact had filled his mind with the other’s memories; no doubt it was the same for Weber- _Shea_. Patrick let himself be distracted, learning what he could.

“You and Toews are together?”

“We kept it out the media,” Patrick shrugged it off, letting his eyes open to watch Shea. “We didn’t want people being assholes.”

Shea nodded, reaching up to gently stroke Patrick’s cheek. The right-winger blushed, smiling softly at the other man.

_ Lean down. _

Patrick did as Shea told him – _don’t start using your captain voice already, jeez_ – and let their lips meet in a soft tangle.

It was soft at first, just skin and lips meshing together, before Shea gently nibbled on Patrick’s lips. The younger male let his lips slide open before groaning softly as their tongues met in a delicate but desperate dance. They held it for a moment, and all Patrick could hear was Shea in his mind, the soft vibration of _mine_ echoing around his head.

Patrick’s eyes opened and he gently pulled away, far enough for him to breathe but close enough for him and Shea to be sharing the same air.

This felt right, and at the same time it all felt so fucking _wrong_ ; Jonny was an echoing memory in Patrick’s mind, reminding him that his boyfriend was still there, was probably being punished for what was ultimately Patrick’s fault. Opening his eyes, he stared deep into Shea’s eyes, as his mouth went dry.

_All yours._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _uwu sorry for a quick update. Got too excited with my writing_
> 
> _Reminder - underline italics is Shea's thoughts, italics is Patrick_

The sound of the door opening made Patrick jump out of his skin, and he looked around, eyes wide. Sharpy and Seabs were standing in the doorway, Duncs just behind them. Patrick managed to smile, shifting so his back was against the side of the bed once more, the cold hospital floor still freezing his ass.

It was where he had sat last night, close enough for Shea to reach him, but uncomfortable enough in an attempt to stay awake – which hadn’t really worked. He’d woken up with an aching spine and a complaining neck, but Shea’s hand was still lightly curled in his hair, and it was comforting.

Patrick watched Sharpy moved across the room silently and smiled weakly. “Thanks for being quiet, but you don’t have to be. The doctors sedated him because he was in so much pain.”

“That must suck.” Seabs gave a worried smile from where he had leaned against the wall, and Patrick looked down.

“All I can feel is his pain.” Patrick’s teeth worried his bottom lip as he tilted his head back, gently knocking the hand that rested there. “The doctors want to make sure that there’s no damage to his skull and brain. I can’t feel a single thing in his mind, not a memory, not a thought, nothing but his pain.” Tears welled up in his eyes once more, and Patrick had to try and remember how to breathe.

“Jonny’s been suspended. For how long, we don’t know; but even when he gets off his suspension, I’m pretty sure Coach will have him benched a little while more. He won’t play again until after Christmas, at least.”

Patrick sighed a little and shook his head. “He was just trying to protect me. I know what he did was extreme, but he shouldn’t be punished for that long.”

“Weber will probably be out for longer than that, judging from the play-by-play that was, by the way, shown on every single sports channel last night.”

Patrick winced and shifted so that his side was pressing against the bed, leaning his head up to where he could watch Shea sleeping. Silence fell around the room, making Patrick feel like he was suffocating, but he preferred it to whatever questions his team might have.

Unfortunately, the sound of Seabs clearing his throat filled the room, and Patrick had to turn his head to watch his friend. “Are you... gonna move to Nashville?”

Patrick shrugged and let his eyes closed, shifting his head so that it bumped gently against Shea’s hand occasionally. “I don’t know. I need to talk to Shea before I-”

“Shea?!”

Patrick blinked a little at Duncs, licking his lips. “Yea, Shea. That’s his name, and he asked me to use it. Does it matter?”

“Just a bit of a shock to hear you talking about him with such... admiration. I mean, you and Jonny are still... together.”

“He’ll understand.”

“Jonny is-”

“Shea is my _soul mate_.” Patrick’s anger flared through him, and he felt some kind of confusion at the back of his mind as he stood up. “If Jonathan can’t accept that, then he can go fuck himself.”

_ Relax, calm down. Don’t hurt yourself. _

Patrick turned around to sit on the bed, frowning at Shea’s worried expression. “You should be resting.”

Shea smiled weakly, intertwining his and Patrick’s fingers. “That would be easier if you weren’t screaming in my head.” He lifted their hands to kiss the back of Patrick’s before he glanced at the numerous Blackhawks in his hospital room. “Is there an issue, Keith?”

Duncs leaned back in the chair he had claimed when he first walked in, half hiding behind Seabs, licking his lips for a moment before he shook his head. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

Shea nodded and dropped Patrick’s hand only to wrap his arm protectively around Patrick’s hips.

The right-winger smiled softly at the soft thrum in his head, _mine, protect_ , and he leaned back as much as he dared.

“Guys, could we have some time?”

Duncs didn’t seem happy to get up, and Seabs had to tug on his arm as they followed Sharpy out of the room.

An uneasy silence fell across the room, but then Shea’s voice was in Patrick’s head, easing him. _Patrick, relax, stop worrying about me. I’m right here, I’m safe._ His hand moved again, only to start rubbing soft circles across the bottom of Patrick’s spine, and Patrick sighed softly, relaxing at the touch.

He turned to look at Shea, flinching as he saw the state of his face.

It had gotten worse, and Patrick hadn’t thought that was possible.

His nose was crooked, a glaring bruise across the bridge of it, centred by a cut the length of a fingernail. His lips seemed even more split, and they looked so painful.

Guilt ate Patrick inside as he realised just how painful it must have been to kiss him, before Shea’s hand was on his face, stroking his cheek bone.

“Don’t feel bad. I’d rather be in pain by kissing you then lying here in pain. No matter what, my lip throbs. I’d rather it be against yours.”

Patrick blushed, smiling as he leaned down to gently press their lips together before sitting up.

_I need to go home. Check in on my team. Change my damn clothes. Pack some things up._

_ You need to do anything else? _

_Probably end up talking to Coach about the whole, you know, “I accidentally soul bonded with someone on a rival team” situation._

The sound of Shea laughing in his mind made Patrick blush softly, and he turned his face away for a moment before focusing back on Shea. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to Shea’s lips before he stood.

_ Be back soon, and remember, don’t let anyone give you shit for this. We couldn’t stop ourselves bonding _ .

Patrick smiled softly, leaning down for another kiss before he disappeared from the room.

xox

Patrick chucked his duffel bag into his passenger seat and collapsed in the driver’s side, groaning as he rubbed his temples.

_ If your head hurts so much, you should take a pain killer. _

_I think it’s more just your pain flaring up. Have you had your meds yet?_

_ No doctor in sight. _

_Call one._

Shea disappeared in his head as Patrick started driving, doing his best to stay calm as he focussed on the roads.

_How the fuck are you meant to focus on driving and talking to someone in your damn head?!_

_ I wouldn’t know, but getting angry at yourself surely isn’t the way. _

_Shea, I swear to God, you’ve been in my head 38 hours, don’t start getting sassy already._

Laughter echoed back to him, and Patrick couldn’t help but smile as he pulled into the parking lot of the United Center.

Fear hit him like a brick wall, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

_ Don’t panic. No one can tell you off for this. The worst that might happen is your Coach might demand to know whether you want to transfer or if I want to transfer. _

_Like anyone would let you transfer to the Hawks while Jonny’s on the team._

_ Oh well, looks like I might have to buy some silk sheets for my double bed. _

_Shut up! Silk feels better on my skin._

Patrick smiled softly before he clambered out his car, slamming the door and locking it over his shoulder. He immediately headed inside, dodging around someone’s fan-girling sister, before heading straight through to the locker room.

_ Remember, just breathe, Patrick. No one can make you feel bad, nor can they make you feel insecure if you don’t let them. _

Patrick smiled weakly, only for it to falter the moment the conversation hit him.

“Yeah well, Pat’s gonna go to Nashville.”

“What makes you so sure of that, Seabs?” Jonny’s voice was dripping venom, and Patrick shuddered.

“Because there is no way in hell that Weber is coming to the Hawks while you’re here. I don’t think it would be allowed. You don’t like him, and I doubt you will.”

“He bonded with my damn boyfr-” Silence fell the moment Jonny’s eyes fell on Patrick, and the room filled with awkwardness. Patrick shuffled a little, clearing his throat.

“Sh- _Weber_ is gonna be fine. He’s just been put on bed rest. They’re keeping him in the rest of the week for observation, to make sure there’s nothing wrong with his skull, spine or brain.”

Everyone nodded, and a few people broke out in grins.

Jonny kept gazing directly into Patrick’s eyes, making him shift uncomfortably. He knew the questions were coming, and panic curled around his mind, only for Shea to be there, humming softly.

The fog cleared, and Pat forced himself to smile. “And before anyone asks: yes, Weber and I soul bonded when we collided last night. Yes, I’ve been with him at the hospital all night. No, I haven’t given it any thought as to whether I’ll transfer to the Predators or not... right now, the main priority is making sure Weber recovers. However,-”

“However, you’ll be taking some time off, going back to Nashville and spending time with Weber, or we’ll never get to exploit your talents because you’ll be too damned worried.”

Patrick gave a smile to Coach Q, finding the tension in the room almost completely gone. He gave a short nod as everyone went back to their own conversations, and he quickly moved over to his stall. He jammed the combination in to the small suitcase he kept to the side – just in case he forgot his duffel on travel days, guilt glaring over him – 02.25. His and Jonny’s anniversary.

_ Hey, stop that, Pat. Not your fault the universe wanted us together. He should have been prepared for this. _

_We were just so sure we were meant to be together; god, we were in love for eight years, Shea._

**_Were_** _in love_. Patrick’s eyes widened as Shea repeated Patrick’s own words back at him and he closed his eyes.

_We **were** in love for eight years._

_ Don’t let him hurt you, Pat. I promise, I’m going to be here the moment you get back, and your Coach is right. We should spend some time together. Once I get discharged, I can stay with you until I’m flight ready, and then you can come back to Nashville with me and look after me until I’m ready to go back on the ice. _

_Then I come home, continue playing and let our bosses discuss when I move back to Nashville to play with the Predators for sure._

_ Sounds like a plan. _

Patrick couldn’t help the smile on his face as the security in Shea’s voice, the oh-so-sure, _this is going to happen and no one is going to get in the way_ that he was giving off.

“Talking to your fuck buddy?”

Patrick’s smile faded as quickly as it had spread onto his face.

Silence fell across the room once more as Jonny finally said something. Patrick turned around to watch him, eyes widening slightly, and panic began to tear through him.

“Shea isn’t my _fuck buddy_ , he’s my _soul mate_.”

“Same thing.”

Patrick wrinkled his nose, ignoring him on purpose.

“Don’t ignore me, _Peeks_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Patrick spun around, glaring daggers. “Yes, I was talking to him, because he can feel my emotions, and he was _worried_ about me. Is that alright?”

“No. You’re _my_ boyfriend.”

Patrick merely wrinkled his nose. “No. No, Toews, we’re not dating anymore.” Patrick started chucking his spare clothes from his stall into the small suitcase, snarling as he slammed the case shut. “I was hoping that you might actually be mature about this, I mean, your attitude has already got you on suspension for God knows how long.” Anger was coursing around Patrick’s body now, and he felt like he might cry if he didn’t let it out. “You beat the living shit out of him, he won’t be allowed back to Nashville for weeks, maybe a month or two, you caused me so much pain I almost blacked out while you were beating Shea to a pulp. I know we wanted to soul bond, and I am _sorry_ that this happened, but I can’t help that the universe wants Shea and I together. I’m with him now, whether that’s romantically or not. We are no longer partners, and I am sorry for that.”

Patrick moved to grab his towel and loose clothes that he had the annoyingly bad habit of leaving out all the time. “I really hoped that you’d be more understanding about this. Shea has done nothing wrong to me, nor has he done anything wrong to this team.” Patrick hesitated before he turned back to Jonny, his anger dissipating when he saw the look on his face. His lips were downcast, and he looked like he might burst into tears as he turned to start grabbing his own clothes from his stall. Fuck, Patrick could see the tears in his eyes, but that wasn’t what killed him inside.

It was the fact that Jonny’s eyes were screaming out in pain, as though they were begging Patrick to take his words back.

_I feel like I just kicked a puppy, Jesus Christ._

But he still stepped forward, unhooking the necklace he wore around his neck. A simple silver chain with a _J_ dangling from it. He held it out, letting it drop into Jonny’s hand before he turned away, trying not to tear up.

“If anyone needs me, text me or something. Don’t call me; I’ll be in the hospital most of the time.” Patrick licked his lips for a moment before he sniffed. “And please, if you have an issue with Shea and I, please, _please_ leave it. I don’t want this to turn into fights in the team. Just play your best and kick ass without me. Don’t make me feel bad for disappearing.”

Everyone murmured some kind of goodbye, and Patrick rushed out the locker room and back out of the building before he burst into tears in front of his team.

_ Hey, you handled that really well. Relax; you don’t need to feel bad about anything you said in there. _

_Eight years, Shea, eight years down the drain. I feel like such an asshole, I broke his fucking heart._

_ It’s not your fault that he’s not your soul mate; it’s not your fault that you couldn’t bond with him. He’ll find his soul mate soon, hopefully sooner rather than later, and then he’ll understand. _

_I suppose..._

_ Hey, why don’t you come back here, and I’ll get a nurse to shift the chairs around so we can lay next to each other and watch crappy movies on your phone until I undoubtedly pass out when they give me my pain meds? _

Patrick smiled as he slowly clambered into his car, starting the engine.

_I think that sounds perfect. Half an hour, and I’ll be there._


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick got to the hospital and immediately headed inside, grabbing his small duffel bag as he did so. A small change of clothes was all he was going to need – like hell was he going to use hospital showers twice a day.

Heading back inside to reception, Patrick moved towards the hall to Shea’s room, frowning when the door wouldn’t open under his push. He glanced around, looking for someone in charge, when he realised that everyone was rushing around.

_ Hey, where are you? _

_I’m in reception. Doors are locked. Gonna find a nurse to let me in, give me a few minutes._

Patrick moved over to the reception desk, leaning over to smile weakly at a pretty blonde nurse.

_ Hey, I can hear your thoughts! _

_I was **appreciating** her, calm down._

“Excuse me, ma’am? I’m trying to visit, but the doors are shut.”

“Sorry, family only.”

“Well, uh, he’s sort of my soul mate,” Patrick felt his cheeks growing hot as he cleared his throat, shuffling where he stood.

“Heard it a hundred times before.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, frowning. “Go ask him. Shea Weber, room 172.”

The nurse didn’t look like she was going to move for a moment, but the sheer determination in Patrick’s eyes must have said something to her, because she disappeared onto the ward.

_ Pat, come on, don’t leave me hanging. _

The image of Shea pouting in his mind made him giggle, and Pat closed his eyes. _Hold on, hold on. She’s coming to find out if we’re soul mates._

The connection was abruptly closed, and Patrick jumped, suddenly aware of how quiet his own mind was, before the nurse appeared, holding the door open. Patrick couldn’t help his little smirk as he went by her.

_ Don’t be rude. _

_Bite me_.

“Get over here, and I will.”

Patrick grinned at Shea as he leaned in the doorway. “Good to see you sitting up.”

Shea laughed a little, tilting his head to the side with a dorky grin. “Well hey there, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“Oh boo, how could I ever forget that snarky, sassy voice in my head that never shuts the hell up?”

Shea burst into laughter, ending it with a wince as he cupped his cheek, doing his best not to show the pain. Patrick was by his side in an instant, worry written all over his face.

_Hey, hey, do you need a doctor?_

_ No, no, I’ll be fine. It just hurts a little bit when I move my face too much. _

_That’s not good, Shea._

_ I’m sure it’s not but, you know, when you have the absolute crap beaten out of your face, that’s what happens. _

Patrick frowned, and ever so gently cupped Shea’s face, thumb brushing over a soft streak of un-bruised skin. “It’s healing, right?”

“The doctors think everything will heal. I might have a scar or two on my face, but everything else should be fine.”

“Scars? Well, sorry babe, that’s a deal breaker.”

Shea pouted and crossed his arms, and Patrick laughed a little, before leaning in for a soft kiss. They held it, breathing in each other’s air, tangling their tongues together, only to break apart at the sound of a cough at the door.

Patrick jumped upright, blushing hard as he stood aside, letting the doctor come in and give Shea the meds he needed.

“New bond, eh?”

“Something like that,” Shea smiled at the doctor, letting the doctor inject the pain killers into his arm.

_Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all._

_ Oh, please, he’s a doctor; he’s seen worse. _

_Okay. It’s embarrassing for **me**._

Shea chuckled softly, leaning back in the bed as the doctor left, his hand reaching out to gently take hold of Patrick’s. The right-winger moved to sit down on the bed, keeping a tight grip on Shea’s hand.

“I’m proud of you, Pat. Seriously, you handled everything so well.”

Patrick smiled, shifting to lie down on his side, making sure not to jog any wires or cables or... god knows what else. “Thanks, Hun.”

“I’m sure your team will kick Jonny into shape.”

Patrick’s eyes closed, and he lay there, silent. _Can we **not** talk about my ex-boyfriend right now?_

_ Of course, I’m sorry. _

Patrick’s eyes opened again, staring up at Shea with a smile.

“So, Netflix and chill?”

Shea laughed and nodded. “Netflix and chill.”

xox

The last few days went quickly, Patrick realised, as he helped Shea pack his stuff away. It felt like just the other day that the captain had been hospitalised.

_ I thought you didn’t like thinking back on that? _

The image of Shea being pinned to the ice glared through Patrick’s head, and the right-winger shuddered so violently that he dropped the book he had been about to put in Shea’s bag.

_Shit._

_ Language! _

_Bite me._

Patrick laughed as Shea’s arms enveloped his waist, his teeth ever so gently nibbling down on Patrick’s neck. _It’s an expression!_

_ I know, but I’ve wanted to do that for a day or so. _

Patrick turned in Shea’s arms, wrapping his own arms loosely around the captain’s shoulders. “You’re a pain in my side and a thorn in my mind.”

“Yes, but you love it.”

Patrick smiled as he leaned in for a soft kiss, letting out a noise of content. “That, I do.”

The two stayed connected, swaying gently to the music echoing around Shea’s head. Patrick decided to probe, pushing through memories in Shea’s mind as he rested his head on the captain’s shoulder.

Shea’s hand moved softly through Patrick’s hair, letting him explore.

Patrick didn’t seem too bothered when he got to Shea’s memories of his ex-girlfriend; it had been a company thing, choosing to date until they met their soul mates – until Patrick started digging too deep into the memories, and Shea slammed his walls up so quickly that Patrick winced.

Patrick’s soft blue eyes widened, looking up at Shea as though he were slightly offended. Guilt wrapped around Shea’s stomach, and he cleared his throat. “Let’s just... not go down that road for a while. Let’s focus on anything that’s not my ex.”

Patrick’s suspicions were curling around his mind, and Shea felt even guiltier when he felt a flare of insecurity from Patrick. He silently moved to finish packing his bags.

“Shea?”

“There’s some things I need to sort with her before we go down that road, alright? I swear, that’s all.”

Patrick hesitated before nodding, clearing his throat. “I trust you, Shea.”

Shea merely smiled and wrapped his arm around Patrick once more before finishing off his packing.

xox

Patrick unlocked the door to his apartment and stood aside so Shea could move inside. Patrick took one of the heavier bags from the captain, smiling as he headed past before heading to the kitchen himself.

“Holy...” _How many damn game consoles do you have?!_

_I normally provide entertainment for the whole team. The PlayStations are for Brent, Duncs, and Shawzie... Sharpy prefers the Xbox consoles. I just play whatever the heck I want._

_ I appreciate that you keep NHL games- do you actually have the special edition NHL 10 and the usual edition? _

_Had to make sure they got the right side of me._

Patrick heard Shea laughing as he slipped inside the living room. Shea was on his knees in front of the television, looking through Patrick’s game collection.

“Yeah, most of those games aren’t mine, the guys bring them over and forget to take them back after we get drunk. But I play them when we have time off, so I normally just keep them until I complete them.”

Patrick sat back on the sofa, relaxing into it.

“There’s a good collection here.”

“I like role playing games. Skyrim and the Assassin’s Creed games are mine. The Dance games are actually Sharpy’s; he and I play them when we’re drunk, that’s always fun – not sure how I have as many achievements on those games as I do.”

Shea smiled back at him, before turning over to the PlayStation games.

_ We’ll have to play a couple. _

_I think we have more than enough time to._

Patrick grabbed his laptop from the floor and leaned back into the arm of the sofa, opening Chrome before he went into silent research into soul bonds.

_ Oh my god, really? **Seriously**? _

Patrick looked up with a raised eyebrow, chewing on a hangnail. “Hm?”

Shea held up _Barbie and her Sisters Puppy Rescue_ for Xbox 360. Patrick burst into laughter. “Okay, that was a joke present in the Secret Santa a few years ago. I haven’t actually played it.”

“I’m sure your Gamer Score will say differently.”

“Okay, there were 20 easy achievements for 1,000GS.”

Shea had a giggling fit. Patrick flipped him off, turning back to his computer.

_ Did you enjoy the game? _

_I gave it a 3.4 rating out of 5, bite me._

Shea went into another giggling fit. Patrick scowled and flipped him off again.

_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry... It is funny though. I can play it, if you want me to. If you think I’ll enjoy it. _

Patrick glared over his laptop screen.

_Stop it._

_ I’m being serious. I’ll log in to my gamer account right now and play it if you want me to. _

_Would you really?_

_ I would. _

_Just because you would means I won’t make you._ Patrick stuck his tongue out, smiling as Shea walked across the room, leaning on the couch arm and over Patrick.

The right-winger gladly leaned up, pressing their lips together. Shea held Patrick’s cheek, thumb stroking over his cheek bone as they kissed softly, before the captain pulled back.

“I’m going to take a hot shower. That hospital bed did horrors on my back.”

Patrick smiled, settling back down into the couch.

“Just so you know, Pat, a hot shower is like a normal shower, but with me in it.”

A bubble of laughter escaped Patrick’s lips as he smiled softly. “You’re vain.”

“I appreciate that I look good.”

“You’re vain.”

Shea leaned down for another kiss, laughing a little before he headed out of the room. Patrick settled back down to read the article he’d opened, only to look up with a frown when Shea came back into the room.

“Which room is the bathroom, and how do I work the shower?”

Patrick laughed again and got up to lead Shea out the room.

xox

The constant buzzing of his phone was really starting to bug Patrick, and he rolled over, finally opening the Facebook chat.

_Duncan Keith: Ayyyy guys, come on; let’s go out tonight._

_Patrick Sharp: We’ve got practice tomorrow._

_Jonathan Toews: I think we could all use some kind of alcohol. Celebration or not._

Patrick rolled his eyes.

_Patrick Kane: I swear the last time you all went out, you almost got arrested due to a drunken bar fight with those guys from St. Louis that were up here for God knows what._

_Duncan Keith: Alright, Peeks, no need to ruin everyone else’s fun._

_\--- Jonathan Toews has left the conversation ---_

_Patrick Kane: .... My bad. Anyway, I gotta go. See ya later_

_Patrick Sharp: Take care, bud!_

_Brent Seabrook: Oh damn it, Peeks. See you around, and hey, I am so down for going out._

Patrick put his phone on mute before he sat up, smiling at a towel-clad Shea that was going through a bag. “You can put some stuff in my drawers, you know.”

“You’re moving to Nashville, remember? Would just be more to take pack, which I’m probably going to end up doing the morning before the flight. Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

“The doctor said you were here a week, anyway.”

Shea shrugged and slid some underwear on under the towel before he disappeared to chuck the towel back into the bathroom. Coming back, he didn’t bother putting a shirt on as he slid into the bed next to Patrick, clad in a Blackhawks shirt and underwear. Patrick lay down, curling up in Shea’s arms.

The captain’s hand gently rubbed up and down Patrick’s back, sliding up the shirt.

_ Why are you wearing a shirt? Out of curiosity, you’ve always just seemed so confident without one. _

_I’m not confident at all shirtless. I hate it._

_ Why’s that? _

_I’m not as muscled as the other guys. Still working on it, but it was always something I just couldn’t do._

_ Jokes get too much? _

_Sometimes. I guess that it might be because I’m shorter than the other guys? I don’t know, I just use it to train more._

Patrick’s hands were running over Shea’s abs, and Shea could feel the insecurity in Patrick’s mind. The captain shifted to sit up, before he moved to tug Patrick’s shirt off. The insecurity in Shea’s mind increased, and Shea shifted to stroke Patrick’s cheek.

_ Relax, baby, relax. Just breathe, bear with me. _

Patrick closed his eyes and let himself slowly relax into the mattress. Shea leaned down gently, his lips slowly caressing down Patrick’s chest, relishing in the way the right-winger’s breath hitched.

The captain gently pressed kisses to every inch of skin he could. His fingers shifted, tracing over Patrick’s abs, making sure to leave soft love bites where he could.

_ You are absolutely gorgeous. Don’t let jokes bring you down, Patrick. _

_It’s hard to... deal with sometimes, I guess._

_ You can talk to me now, whenever you feel terrible, whenever you feel bad about yourself.  _

_You’re a godsend._

Patrick’s hand shifted to ever so gently curl in Shea’s hair. Patrick’s head tilted to watch Shea, and the captain slowly kissed his way back up Patrick’s chest, lips pressing against Patrick’s own.

Shea smiled and got up to turn the lights off, returning to the bed.

_Hey, don’t even think about getting on the right side of the bed, that’s **my** side._

Shea laughed and moved to clamber over Patrick, settling on the left side.

_ Well, maybe if you didn’t lie in the middle of the damn bed, I could figure out where the hell I’m meant to sleep. _

Patrick laughed a little before he settled down, head on Shea’s chest. They stayed silent, and Patrick let the sound of Shea’s heartbeat send him to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely disappeared when the season ended but Hello Friends I am back

The morning came quickly, and Patrick’s consciousness slowly came back to him. He groaned a little and stretched, his limbs and joints still so sore from sleeping awkwardly in the hospital. His arms stretched to the side, and Patrick clung to the silk between his fingers… before he shot upright, staring at the empty bed next to him.  
  
Shea should be lying there, asleep, with his arm wrapped around Patrick’s waist. Patrick’s head should be above his heart, listening to the sound of Shea’s heart as he slowly woke up.  
  
Glancing around the bedroom, Patrick found himself confused and he quickly got up, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the floor. Pulling them on, he rushed through his apartment, only to freeze in the door of the living room.   
  
Shea was slumped on the couch, Patrick’s laptop open on his chest. His arm was hanging down, knuckles grazing on the floor. Patrick couldn’t help but smile as he watched the soft, shallow breathing of the other man, obviously peaceful in his sleep. The right winger stayed where he was for a moment, gently probing at Shea’s mind to feel the gentle comfort of his sleep, before he was startled by the front door opening.  
  
Almost immediately, as the man sensed Patrick’s fright and unease, Shea sat up, almost sending the laptop to the floor.   
  
The two men were silent as they stared at Jonathan, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.  
  
“What the hell are you doing here?”  
  
Patrick jumped at the animosity in Shea’s voice, and immediately reached out to him mentally, soothing him as best he could.  
  
“I live here. I came to get my stuff.”  
  
Patrick nodded and stepped aside, moving to sit on the couch. Shea didn’t move, and Patrick leant with his back against the man. It was an awkward position to sit in, but he didn’t complain. As Jonathan moved away from the sight of them, and into the hallway that lead to the bedrooms, Shea closed the laptop. Sitting up, he set it on the floor, before standing and watching Patrick.  
  
The right winger looked up with a raised eyebrow. _What?  
  
__Why is he here?  
  
__He told you, Shea. We didn’t… we didn’t officially live together but we always spent the nights either here or at his apartment. He has tons of stuff here, he’s just picking it up.  
  
__You’re sure?  
  
__Shea, why are you so suspicious?  
  
_ Shea shrugged and turned away to head into the kitchen, the sound of the coffee maker working a few moments later.  
  
_Shea…  
  
__I’m not suspicious I just… it was an unpleasant surprise to wake up and find my partner’s ex in front of me.  
  
_ Patrick chuckled a little and moved around the living room, clearing up a few things, throwing a sock in the direction of the kitchen and washer.  
  
_THE HELL- Oh it’s a sock_  
  
Patrick quickly looked up with a frown, only to burst into laughter.  
  
The sock he had thrown had curved upwards due to the direction of his throw. It was sitting at Shea’s feet and he stared down at it confused.   
  
_You alright there?  
  
__Your flying sock hit me in the face._  
  
Patrick laughed again, softly this time, only for it to cut short when he felt the admiration from Shea’s mind.  
  
_Please, please don’t stop that laugh. It’s sweet, innocent. Somewhat suits you.  
  
__My laughing is not sweet. Nor is it, or I, innocent._  
  
Shea laughed and held his hand out to Patrick, who gladly took it, being pulled into a warm embrace. They stayed in each other’s arms for a few moments, before Patrick stood on his toes, leaning up for a kiss.  
  
They pressed their lips together, moving in sync together. Patrick’s arms wrapped around Shea’s neck, Shea’s around Patrick’s waist, holding each other close. They breathed each other in, senses overwhelmed with nothing but the other man, before there was a gentle cough.  
  
Patrick jumped away from Shea, looking down at his feet when he realised that Jonathan was stood in the doorway, watching them both. He didn’t need to look up at his captain to know he would look downcast, maybe even tearing up, but he forced himself to.  
  
He had been right.  
  
Jonathan looked like he was in shock, staring at Patrick with slightly wide eyes. His bottom lip was ever so slightly sticking out, and Patrick could have sworn he could see it wobbling until Jonathan clamped his teeth down onto it. He inhaled loudly threw his nostrils, pulling a gym bag onto his back before clearing his throat.  
  
“I’ll… just leave my keys.”  
  
Patrick was grateful when Shea gave him a sympathetic pat mentally, before disappearing into the kitchen.  
  
“Perhaps it’s better you keep hold of them for a while. If I’m in Nashville, you won’t have access.”  
  
Jonathan nodded a little bit, looking away as he shoved the keys back into his hoodie pocket. “I guess that uh. I’ll be seeing you.”  
  
Patrick nodded and watched him walk towards the doorway, before clearing his own throat. “Jon…”  
  
Jonathan froze with his hand on the doorknob, his head turning ever so slightly. Patrick might have said it was in hope.  
  
“Take care of yourself, Tazer.”  
  
Jonathan seemed to freeze in spot before nodding and exiting the apartment.  
  
Slowly, Patrick sunk down to sit on the couch, his mind thrown into turmoil once more, guilt eating away at his stomach.

 

-xox-

 

Jonathan sat in the restaurant with Brent, staring at the plate of food in front of him. It tasted stale, and he had resorted to pressing it around his plate with the fork in hand. The table had been pretty much silent since Brent had gotten to the small diner, by Jonathan’s request.  
  
“Buddy.” Finally, Brent broke the ten minute silence after taking a drink from his bottle. “Something’s obviously up and you’re not yourself. What’s wrong?”  
  
There was another silence, one that lasted about two minutes, before Jonathan looked up from his dinner. Brent was shocked to see the tears in his eyes.  
  
“I went to Pat’s. I had to get my necessities. I was fine, I really was but then I came back and they were kissing and I… I lost it.” Jonathan sighed, taking a breath that ended up a hiccup. “I don’t know what to do he just… He just seems to have thrown the past eight years away, as if they mean nothing. It’s like Weber’s some shiny new toy for him to play with and I…”  
  
Jonathan broke off, taking a long drink from his water.  
  
“Jonny, bud, you can’t sit there hoping that he’s just going to forget about Shea.”  
  
The cold, hard stare he received made Brent shift.  
  
“Patrick isn’t just going to forget about _Weber_ , it’s not going to happen. They bonded. God knows why those two ended up bonding.”  
  
“I don’t understand it. I don’t understand bonding, I don’t get why _him_ and why _now_.”  
  
“You know bonding works in strange ways, Jon.” Brent sighed, remembering all the research he’d done the night he had bonded with Duncan. “Bonding only works if all members of a bond are ready to bond. I mean, there are cases where two people will bond and another member of their bond isn’t ready and bonds later but… from the research I’ve read, the bonding itself is pretty random. Your soulmate isn’t something you can force, but there’s no way of telling who they are either.”  
  
Jonathan had to duck down, and Brent watched a tear drip from his face.  
  
“I really am sorry, Jon. I know how much you love him.”  
  
“I just thought we were really soul mates, you know? We really did love each other and I just… I feel like I was someone he just preoccupied his time with.”  
  
Brent frowned and took a bite of the sandwich he had ordered, waiting for Jonathan to find some composure.  
  
“Okay, you know as well as I do that that is _not_ true. He loved you, probably still does, Jon. You haven’t bonded yet, but let me tell you. When you do, it’s a _rush_ of nothing but love, compassion, and all the other stuff that comes with a relationship. It’s almost impossible to ignore and there is no way that Patrick could ignore it for Weber. Their bond started in pain; they bonded when they hit into each other and you immefiately started laying into Weber. Weber was in pain and with a brand new soul bond, he wouldn’t have been able to stop that from relaying to Patrick. Patrick was in just as much pain as Weber was – which would have strengthened their bond significantly because all they wanted in that moment was to protect each other.”  
  
Brent sighed.  
  
“Jonathan I’m sorry but he’s not going to just leave Weber, but I will do my best to help you over this, and so will most of the team.”  
  
Jonathan nodded and finally took a bite of the fry up he had ordered. His beans were stone cold.  
  
After a few more bites, they paid the bill and went their separate ways.  
  
In his car, Jonathan gripped the steering wheel, not turning the car on. Finally there, finally away from the public eye, he let the tears fall, breaking down where he sat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat explicit content - blow job - featured in the later section of this chapter.

 

Research, research… and more research. It seemed to be all Patrick did in his alone time, other than training. But it was all the same words, echoing around his head – every time he and Jonathan had stayed up late, cuddled in each other’s arms in bed, reading the pages they found.   
  
_A soul bond can only be formed between soul mates, true soul mates.  
  
Someone may go their entire life without finding their soul mate.  
  
Soul mates are the cause of the star dust used to create humans.  
  
_ Patrick rolled his eyes. It was all the same romanticised crap. Stars exploded, the particles fused into other elements, and eventually, humans were made from elements that once used to be stars. Soul mates were chosen by the universe via their star dust. If your dust – or as Patrick referred to them, genetic make up – was from one star, your soul mate would be from the closest star to yours.   
  
_Bullshit_ , Patrick had always thought, _bullshit rules about something that doesn’t even exist. It’s just a social construct._  
  
Those were the lies that Patrick and Jonathan had told themselves every night.  
  
_The universe gets it wrong sometimes.  
Soul mates don’t exist – it’s just a bond between two people that love each other.  
Some people’s bonds take too long to be created.  
We’re both just subconsciously unready for a soul bond.  
  
_ Patrick’s eyes flickered across the room to the doorway between the living room and kitchen. He watched Shea moving around, cooking dinner.  
  
They’d been practising their mental blocks all morning, something that would be crucial for their training. Patrick would be returning to training for the day tomorrow, playing in the game that night – by his own choice – and Shea couldn’t listen in to their training.  
  
Shea would be home alone all day, focusing on his own research, and talking to his own team, getting himself back into the mindset for training.  
  
At the end of the week, in four days, they’d be going to Nashville for two weeks. Patrick would return to play for the Hawks for a month. Quenville and Laviolette had already discussed Patrick’s career – he’d be going to the Predators. The Hawks would finish his payment for the rest of the season and then his contract would be signed over to the Predators, his eight year contract, a year run, would finish with them.   
  
Nerves ran anxious in his stomach, and he knew that the Hawks would know. He tried to consider what the Hawks would be thinking about his trade, what they would be saying. His mind drifted to Jonathan, and what he would be doing and saying, and then suddenly, Shea was sat by his side.  
  
“Toews is a big boy.”  
  
Apparently, Patrick’s mental blocks weren’t as strong as he thought.  
  
“Your block went down about an hour ago.”  
  
Immediately, shame filled Patrick’s stomach, realising that Shea would have heard every word about Jonathan that he had whispered mentally, the feeling of regret hiding loosely behind them.  
  
_I’m not mad. I can understand it. There were similar feelings with my ex, just not as strong as what you and Jonathan had.  
  
__I feel so bad, Shea.  
  
__I know you do…_ Shea broke off, moving to hug Patrick close. __It’s not your fault this happened, Pat. I wish I could stop you blaming yourself for this.

 

Patrick leaned in to the strong arms wrapping around him, holding him tightly, and he relaxed. He felt safe here, he felt like nothing could go wrong, and that if something did, Shea would be there to protect him.  
  
He swallowed as he realised that this was what a soul bond entailed. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he realised that laying like this with Jonathan hadn’t always given him these feelings.  
  
Closing his eyes, Patrick buried himself in Shea, letting his scent take over all his senses, letting the feeling of security swirl around him, keeping him safe. Shea’s arms tightened as the Captain sensed that the right winged was anxious, almost scared.  
  
They stayed that way for a while, much longer than Patrick thought, as when he leaned back, Shea leaned away to turn the lamp on situated beside the couch. The scent of burning filtered through to them, and Shea swore as he jumped up, rushing to the kitchen to turn the oven off before the fire alarms went off.  
  
Patrick chuckled as he watched Shea frantically open the window and set the burnt lasagna on the sill, waving at it desperately to get the smoke out of the kitchen.  
  
Smiling, the right winger stood, moving over to wrap his arms around Shea. “Should we just call for take out?”  
  
“I can cook, it’s alright.”  
  
“I know you can cook I just… I just really want some time with you. I don’t want to have to keep moving because you have to get up to cook.”  
  
Shea smiled a little and eventually turned around to wrap his arms around Patrick. “What take out do you want?”  
  
Patrick smiled and leaned up for a kiss, pressing his body to Shea’s.  
  
_I was kinda craving Chinese take out.  
  
__You want Chinese? Consider it done. Where do you normally order from?  
  
__The only shop I ever order from is_ _P. F. Chang’s_ _. The Hawks all normally go there for special celebrations and we get the chance to have ‘junk food’, you know?  
  
__Yeah, I get what you mean. The Preds, we do the same. We have our own little Korean restaurant we go to in Nashville. Seoul Garden. Normally when someone gets 100 goals, or the like.  
  
__Yeah, we do the same._ Patrick grinned. _The guys took me to_ _P.F’s_ _when my point streak ended – I didn’t even have to help pay for the bill_.  
  
Shea chuckled a little and leaned down to kiss Patrick again before pulling away. “Right, I’ll order. What do you normally have?”  
  
Patrick watched him cross the living room to sit on the couch, grabbing the laptop before glancing over at the man. “What do you want?”  
  
Patrick tilted his head a little, pursing his lips as he thought. “Sweet and sour chicken with… P. F. Chang’s fried rice please, babe.”  
  
Shea nodded and turned his attention to the laptop clicking away before getting up to grab his wallet from the kitchen side. Patrick stood still, watching his movements all the time.  
  
“Should only be 20 minutes until it’s here, mon loup.”  
  
Patrick blushed softly at the pet name – Shea had explained it was heavily used in French Canadian states, and the definition – my wolf – always made Patrick smile.  
  
_Is something up? You’re being abnormally quiet.  
  
__I’m just… thinking about something.  
  
__And what would you be thinking about?  
  
_ Patrick went silent, blushing again before he took a breath, moving from the kitchen doorway to collapse to his knees in front of Shea. The Captain raised a brow, half-smirking as he tentatively opened his legs.  
  
He knew Patrick was shy, insecure, and he didn’t want to spook him… but almost immediately, Patrick’s hands move for the flies of Shea’s trousers. The Captain watched him a moment, letting his eyes close and head tilt back.  
  
The gentle brush of Patrick’s fingertips over the material of his boxers made his breath stutter out, sounding too loud in his own ears.  
  
They said nothing, the only sound was Shea’s breathing steadily increasing as Patrick’s slightly cold hand slipped inside the fly of his boxers, gently taking hold of the man’s cock. Shea shivered, and looked down to watch Patrick gently pull it free of both boxers and jeans fly, his hand stroking softly.  
  
Almost immediately, Shea’s blood flow changed, so quickly the man thought for a moment he might pass out, and then Patrick’s tongue pressed gently against his tip, and Shea lost all thinking capability.   
  
Patrick slowly slid Shea’s hardening cock into his mouth, sucking softly as he did so. His hand wrapped around the base, holding it steady for himself, before his mouth plunged down the man’s shaft.  
  
Shea was taken by surprise, let out a breathy moan, and felt a soft wave of embarrassment as his hips bucked up without warning.  
  
He felt bad for a moment, but Patrick took it in his stride, sucking harder.  
  
Shea inhaled sharply as the other man began bobbing his head, lost in the slick, warm heat surrounding his cock. Within seconds, he had been snapped back to reality by the vibrations in his cock, due to the action of Patrick moaning softly.  
  
Patrick looked up, eyes opening to watch Shea’s face contort in pleasure as he continued the moan, letting his teeth ever so gently graze across the man’s vein.  
  
Shea yelled out, overwhelmed.  
  
He was overwhelmed by the feeling surrounding his cock, the throbs over the soul bond of Patrick’s pure _want a_ nd _lust_ mixing with his own, making it impossible to think of anything else.  
  
His hand dropped to fist in Patrick’s hair – _his soft curled locks… they just seem to fit in my hand –_ and then Patrick was deep throating him and Shea cried out, his hips bucking wildly. Patrick’s hand had moved to carefully grope the man’s scrotum, squeezing and twisting softly as he worked.   
  
Shea felt his cock and balls begin to grow tight, the hot pleasure building at the base of his cock and he opened his mouth to warn Patrick, but he couldn’t muster any words.   
  
_Ngh… Pat… Patty… gonna… FUCK… Pat I can’t hold it much longer.  
  
__Cum for me, Shea, come for me… fuck I wanna taste you, I wanna taste you so bad._

 

It was all it took. Patrick’s tongue flicked through his slit, greedily taking up the man’s pre-cum before Shea yelled out again, cumming hard.   
  
Patrick immediately leaned up a little to suck hard on the man’s tip, sucking him dry. Leaning back, Shea’s cock slipped out of his mouth with an obscene pop that made Patrick smirk.  
  
Panting, words weren’t able to leave Shea’s mouth, and he held an iron-weighted arm out so his hand could cup Patrick’s cheek, gently wiping a drop of cum from his lips.  
  
_Shit Pat… where the hell did that thought come from?  
  
__When I hung around with Sharpy yesterday, I was sucking a lollipop at his house… and I just wondered what it would be like to suck you off.  
  
_ Patrick looked up as the door buzzed, and he grinned at Shea, walking over to the door to answer it.  
  
_Can you hang around with Sharpy more often? Maybe it might give you more ideas.  
  
_ Patrick looked at the man with a smirk, buzzing the delivery man up before moving to stand in front of the couch. He rested his hands on the back of it, leaning down to kiss Shea, softly, steadily, before he got up to head to the bathroom. After a few moments, Shea heard the soft buzz of a toothbrush and he looked down to carefully tuck himself back into his jeans before he stood and headed to the bedroom.  
  
Changing quickly, he went to answer the door and get the food, making sure to give the delivery man a 15% tip before wishing him farewell and setting the food out on the coffee table.  
  
Patrick drifted back to sit on the couch, looking more than content as he grabbed his pot of sweet and sour chicken and a pair of chopsticks before setting them in his lap to flick channels on the television.  
  
Shea sat down with his own food, and Patrick moved closer to him, their legs brushing as he flicked, before settling on old reruns of _Family Guy_.  
  
They sat in silence, laughing at the show as they cuddled close, eventually moving to snuggle when they’d stuffed themselves full of Chinese food.  
  
Shea’s hand rested on Patrick’s hip, rubbing gentle circles into the man’s bare skin, revealed where Patrick’s shirt had ridden up. Laying there together, content in each other’s company, satisfied and full, they fell asleep by the flickering light of the television.


End file.
